Twisted

Part 5

The summer was finally coming to an abrupt end. Suddenly you were out back to shop for clothes with your mother, and preparing with a new supply of pencils, and notebooks. You were fully prepared to start your year, or so you thought. The last week of summer rolled around with that familiar summer haze. Only heavier than usual. You awake on your last free Monday with a splitting headache that racked your whole body.

Sweat stuck to your body as your shift between your unusually heavy sheets. You pushed the fabric off of your body with the little energy you had. Immediately regretting it when the action brought the feeling of nausea. You heaved your hand up to your face and ran your fingers across your sweat-covered forehead. You were utterly miserable. You'd been hungover before, but never something like this. Besides, you hadn't been drinking very much as of late. You feared that being too drunk you might slip up, and Henry would find out your dirty secret. No matter what, Henry couldn't know.

You waited for nausea to pass, but it didn't. At first, it was a dull feeling that made everything heavy. And then you felt the tickle of regenerated food in your throat and you bolted up. Throwing yourself to the floor and lunging for the small trash can next to your desk. You gagged and let up what remained. Gasping and panting as the sickness took you a few times. You sat there, clutching the plastic container, and let yourself calm down. Shit.

Once that passed, you pulled yourself up from the desk. You felt, a little better, a little. You shuffled out into the hallway. And looked around. You made your way to your bathroom and turned on the shower. A good, cold shower to wash everything away. You gargled the water in your mouth to take away the disgusting taste of gunk in the back of your throat. The heavy feeling started to let up. And when you got out, you almost felt hungry. You did your best to get dressed in the most comfortable clothes you had that still passed as presentable.

Then came the familiar honking of a car horn. You cringed. Not now...You groaned and pulled yourself out of the house with bags under your eyes. Your brows knitted together and you squinted to make sure your vision was correct. It was just Belch in the driver seat. His arm out the open window as he watched you walk down the drive. You opened the car door.

"Just you?" You ask. He gives you a nervous shrug "Apparently they're all already at Fix."

The Fix was a not-so-popular diner in the town that the group often inhabited when they were looking to sit down and grab a drink. It was that or the McDonalds in town, but that was always filled with kids. The diner was mostly for sad old people, drug users, hungover men and women, and bored teenagers. Making it perfect for the gang.

"Gotcha." You sat down and closed the door behind you. Your squint didn't relax. Your eyelids drooped over your usually bright eyes and grunted slightly when you sat down. Clearly, not your best morning.

"You alright?" Belch asked, staring at you. You shrugged.

"I threw up this morning. I hope it's not the flu."